Chapter 49: The Xiao Mu Cub Crying While Hugging His Brother’s Waist…

049

The next day, he woke up once again in the pretty brother’s arms. The little guy had thoroughly understood by now that his brother truly didn’t dislike him. It was just that in the world of the dead, no one liked to talk.

It might also have been because he had turned into one of the dead. Su Ximu climbed out of his brother’s arms and lowered his head to touch his belly.

He felt like it had been a very, very long time since he last ate, but he didn’t feel hungry at all.

Ghosts probably didn’t need to eat anything.

Without needing to eat, the little guy who had woken up sat there for a while. Then he reached out to rub his eyes, turned around, and crawled back beside his brother to lie down next to him.

“Brother, if only I talk and you guys don’t, will it be annoying?” Su Ximu turned his head to look at the pretty brother, who had also woken up, and continued, “If it’s a little annoying, just touch me.”

After waiting a short while with no further reaction from his brother, he relaxed and turned his little head back.

“Then I’m gonna talk, okay.”

“What are your names, brothers?”

“I’m Su Ximu, this Su.” The little guy stretched out a tender little finger and gestured in midair.

“Ximu. Grandma said it means stars.”

That was why Grandma usually called him by his nickname—sometimes Xibao, sometimes Star Treasure.

Thinking of Grandma made Su Ximu sad again.

“Grandma must be so heartbroken knowing I died!”

“Brother, do you, Big Brother, and Little Brother have the same parents?”

Did Big Brother, Brother, and Little Brother all die at the same time?

In the past, aside from mealtimes, ritual cleansings, and gathering, the entire Resident District was eerily quiet at all other times. Because of the smog, there weren’t even any bird calls or insect chirps.

Now, out of nowhere, there was this little guy—warm and needy for security, squeezing close to people, speaking in a soft voice with his babbling yips and yahs, no one knew what he was saying.

The other three in the room didn’t feel annoyed at all.

On the evening of the third day, when the little guy blinked his long, thick, upturned eyelashes and said goodnight to everyone, 243 even turned his head for the first time to glance at the child who had burrowed into his second brother’s arms of his own accord.

At night, perhaps because they were so close, the thump-thump of 242’s heartbeat and the child in his arms gradually synced up.

In the days that followed, time passed day by day.

Daily life in District 13 was as calm as a stagnant pool of dead water. But for Su Ximu, the newcomer child, there was still plenty of novelty here for him to explore.

At first, he didn’t dare go too far. He would only tell the pretty brother and then wander around the iron hut.

But as time went on, he discovered that the people here, aside from not liking to talk, weren’t fierce at all. They wouldn’t scold or hit him.

Gradually, the little guy’s courage grew a bit.

After staying cooped up in the little hut for too long, he would go out for a stroll.

Because his location was actually on the edge of the Resident District, one day, as Su Ximu toddled along exploring, he finally reached the end of the Resident District.

There stood a very, very tall steel wall.

Corroded over the years by smog and occasional acid rain, the wall wasn’t pretty—pitted, dotted with rust spots.

The little guy craned his neck as hard as he could and finally made out the top of the wall.

He ran to the wall’s base and compared his height with his hand, his mouth opening slightly.

The wall was so, so tall—maybe… a hundred of him!

In the mind of a child not yet five years old by two months, a hundred was an enormous number.

After his seemingly professional assessment of the wall’s height, Su Ximu wanted to see where the wall extended to.

But when he looked out, compared to the height he could at least see the end of, the wall’s width was truly impossible to see to the end.

Because after a certain point, the rest of the wall vanished into the smog.

He lingered a bit longer by his new discovery, the wall, then turned to head home.

That evening, the little guy who loved chatting with his brothers every night before bed had a new topic.

He asked curiously, “Brother, why is there such a tall, huge wall over there?”

“I heard laughter from that side. Brother, why don’t you guys laugh?”

Getting no answer, Su Ximu started pondering on his own.

One moment he thought maybe the wall was there to separate the people who laughed from those who didn’t.

The next, he figured something really happy must have happened on the other side of the wall that day, so everyone laughed.

As he chattered on, he suddenly felt the little brother lying beside him roll over, then roll again.

The child, hearing the movement, immediately shifted his attention. Blinking his big, bright eyes, he looked toward the little brother.

He had never heard anyone rolling over before bedtime.

243 seemed a bit restless before sleep tonight.

Though it wasn’t visible from his expression or body language, compared to his previous wooden statue-like demeanor, it was clear he was indeed restless.

People weren’t wooden logs, after all.

Even chaotic thoughts aside, even domesticated livestock would kick at the dirt underfoot when truly in a bad mood.

After rolling over, 243 rubbed his left arm against the ground.

After rubbing, another roll. This time, he came face-to-face with the little guy’s dark, bright, curious eyes staring right at him.

Su Ximu was a very helpful little friend.

Noticing the little brother’s oddity, he took the initiative to crawl out of his brother’s arms, over to the little brother’s side, and asked, “Little Brother, did a bug bite your arm?”

“I’ll scratch it for you~”

With that, he reached out and touched the little brother’s arm, which had been rubbing on the ground.

243’s arm trembled and went still.

He closed his eyes instead, as if avoiding something.

Su Ximu thought this meant agreement. He reached out, pushed up the little brother’s somewhat loose sleeve, placed his other hand on it, and prepared to scratch the itch.

But after just two scratches, he leaned in closer with a puzzled look.

On the little brother’s arm—which was only about half again as long as his own—there was a neat row of square scars.

He didn’t know how severe an injury it took to leave scars raised like that.

He just rolled up his own sleeve.

He had fallen as a child and bloodied his hand—it hurt so much.

Su Ximu carefully recalled; he could almost feel the pain again. But on the exposed section of his white, tender arm, like a lotus root segment, there wasn’t a single scar mark.

Now, the little guy stopped scratching. Instead, he lay there, blowing huffs of air on the little brother’s arm, coaxing as he blew, “Doesn’t hurt.”

“Baby be good… be good…”

“Blow on it and it won’t hurt anymore.”

The scarred spot on 243’s arm had been rubbed warm and swollen. Being blown on several times actually felt quite comfortable.

He gradually stopped his restless rolling. In this somewhat awkward position, he gazed at the child still diligently huffing and puffing away. His eyes blurred for a moment, and soon after, he closed them and truly fell asleep.

Nearby, 242 and 241—who hadn’t actually been asleep—saw this and scratched at their own arms.

A few hours later, the sky was still heavily overcast, but a shrill whistle suddenly pierced from outside.

Immediately after, clanking chains rattled endlessly as residents moved about.

When Su Ximu was jolted awake, he found all three of his brothers already up.

They cleaned their teeth with white sand like salt, then wiped their faces with it.

They even changed clothes, into loose white outfits.

Seeing his brothers like this, and hearing the noises outside, the little guy stood up and pressed against the door, peeking out through the crack.

He saw that the people outside were dressed just like his brothers.

Encountering a group activity for the first time, he trotted over to his brother, tilted up his little face, and asked, “Brother, what is everyone doing? Can I go too?”

“Why don’t I have white clothes like everyone else’s?”

With that, the little guy spread his arms and spun once, indicating he didn’t have those wide-sleeved, bedsheet-like white clothes.

242 didn’t make a sound.

But after a moment, he made a rare proactive response these past days.

Before heading out, he extended a finger and pressed it against the forehead of the little guy who wanted to go with them, pushing him back into the hut.

Su Ximu touched his forehead, puzzled, smiled at his brother, then lifted his foot to hold hands.

But he was pushed back again by the forehead.

This time, when he looked up after being pushed back, he saw the door slam shut with a bang.

Now he got it.

Brother, Big Brother, and Little Brother were all going out together, but not taking him.

Rejected, the little guy pursed his lips in disappointment, walked to the corner, and squatted down—like a gloomy little mushroom, obedient but in a bad mood.

He waited like that for nearly a whole day.

At dusk, the brothers who had left very early finally returned home.

Having stayed home alone all day, but not one to hold grudges, Su Ximu perked up his ears and immediately ran to the door.

Big Brother entered first, then Little Brother, Brother last, casually shutting the door behind him.

Big Brother and Brother showed nothing unusual, but Little Brother paced around the room several times.

After pacing, Little Brother looked at his own arm, sat down, and slammed it against the wall.

His mood seemed even worse than yesterday.

During this, Su Ximu felt like Little Brother had glanced at him once.

So he took the initiative to walk over, sat down imitating Little Brother, looked at Little Brother’s arm, and had a flash of inspiration.

Like yesterday, he lifted Little Brother’s arm and rolled up the sleeve.

Just as he prepared to scratch and blow on it like before, his eyes suddenly widened.

On the arm already covered in scars, there was a fresh square wound.

The wound was deep, like a chunk of flesh had been dug right out.

A wound that size would normally bleed profusely and hard to stop. But this one had been treated; the fresh wound was charred black.

Aside from a bit of tissue fluid seeping out, there was no blood.

The smaller the child, the less concept they had of gore.

Su Ximu didn’t find the wound scary, but he was at a loss.

He figured a wound like that must hurt terribly.

As if struck by a thought, he immediately stood up, ran to Brother’s side, and lifted Brother’s sleeve to check.

Under Brother’s sleeve was an identical wound.

Brother’s arm had many such scars, even more than Little Brother’s.

After checking Brother, Big Brother wasn’t spared either.

Sure enough, Big Brother’s arm had one too.

The little guy’s mouth flattened, and suddenly he turned, hugged Brother’s waist, and burst into heartbroken tears.

He knew now why his brothers had left him home today.

Because that group activity was bad—those who went got hurt.